


with your hand in mine

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cancer, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has cancer, and Grantaire is there for him every step of the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with your hand in mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on [this post](http://combeferrewolf.tumblr.com/post/63140252406/) by [combeferrewolf](http://combeferrewolf.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

Grantaire is making cupcakes in the kitchen. This isn't what Enjolras had anticipated when they'd started dating; he'd never thought that his life would become spontaneous flowers and having his boyfriend come over to try out a new cupcake recipe because Enjolras' oven is better than his own. 

Then again, life isn't exactly going according to plan right now.

"Grantaire." Leaning against the kitchen counter, Enjolras wrings his hands, keeping them out of sight. "We need to talk."

"That sounds ominous. You're not breaking up with me are you?" Grantaire glances over his shoulder and when he sees Enjolras' serious expression, he slowly puts the mixing bowl down. "…Are you? I'm sorry, this is new but I'm trying really hard not to fuck up and—"

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupts. It's easy to be calm when Grantaire is panicked. They balance each other out. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"Oh." Grantaire looks so relieved that Enjolras almost feels guilty for the fact that what he _actually_ wants to talk about is much worse. "Okay."

"…It's important," Enjolras continues and he tries to smile, but he can't hold the expression. "You might want to sit down."

This time, Grantaire turns away from his mixing bowl entirely, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of Enjolras. "What's wrong?" 

"Grantaire, sit—"

"Enjolras." Grantaire takes his hand.

Dropping his gaze to their hands, Enjolras considers telling Grantaire just like this, but he knows he won't. He lifts his head, forces himself to look Grantaire in the eye and takes a deep breath. "I have cancer."

Grantaire blinks at him, looking for a moment like he hasn't understood what Enjolras has just said. Then his grip on Enjolras' hand tightens and the only thing he manages to say is, "Shit." 

"Yeah." Enjolras tugs on Grantaire's hand, leading him out of the kitchen and to the couch. 

Grantaire sits down heavily, taking both of Enjolras' hands into his this time and bringing them to his lips. "So I'm guessing that doctor's appointment you went to last week…"

"Was about this, yes." Enjolras shifts closer, until their knees are touching. "I have an appointment at the hospital for tomorrow. They're going to perform a biopsy so they can find out what kind of cancer it is."

"Are you going alone?"

"I…" Enjolras frowns. He hadn't thought of going with anyone. Now that he is, he doesn't want to go alone.

Grantaire, wonderful as he is, seems to understand. He leans over to press his lips to Enjolras' temple. "Can I come? I'll stay in the waiting room for as long as you need me to." 

"Please." Enjolras squeezes Grantaire's hand. "I would like that."

"I'll be there," Grantaire murmurs. He wraps his arm around Enjolras' shoulder and pulls him close. "I promise you, Enjolras."

«·»

Grantaire is there, as promised, for the few hours that it takes for the biopsy surgery, and he's there again when Enjolras goes in to get his results. Enjolras is grateful for it, but he can't help but feel guilty. They've barely been together for a month, and the last thing that Enjolras wants is for him to feel obligated to come along.

When he says as much to Grantaire, on their way to the specialist, it earns him a thoroughly unimpressed look. 

"You think I'm here because I feel _obligated_?" Grantaire runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "I know we've only been dating for a month, but you've been my friend for _years_ and I've—I've been stupid crazy over you for almost as long." 

"I didn't know that," Enjolras mumbles, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

"You're probably the only one who didn't," Grantaire tells. "I don't really bring it up. It's embarrassing."

"No it's not." Enjolras smiles, pressing a light kiss to Grantaire's lips. "It makes me happy."

"Yeah?" Grantaire smiles himself. "That's… a relief."

Their smiles disappear as soon as they get to the specialist. The waiting room is oppressively silent and Enjolras' palms are sweaty. Grantaire doesn't let go of his hand all the same, and holds it the entire time, from the moment they enter the building and continues to hold it when Enjolras' name is called and they walk into the specialist's office together. 

The specialist looks at Enjolras with sympathy, and that's all he needs to squash his hopes that maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake. His grip on Grantaire's hand tightens to the point that it must be painful, but Grantaire doesn't outwardly react at all, except to squeeze right back.

They're told that it's Hodgkin's lymphoma, and that it's completely treatable. Luckily for Enjolras, they'd caught it in its early stages. Enjolras tries to be glad about it; he tries to tell himself that he's relieved that he now has a name for the thing that is trying to kill him from the inside out, but he's too stuck on the fact that _his body is trying to kill him_ and that makes it hard to feel relieved about anything, hard to think, hard to breathe.

Grantaire shifts in his chair, pressing himself against Enjolras' side, grounding him. They continue to grip each other's hands tightly and Grantaire speaks in a quiet, calm voice that sounds strange, coming from him. He asks all the questions Enjolras had looked up before coming here, about second opinions, treatment options, about the likelihood of it succeeding. 

He gets the answers they need, and Enjolras would usually hate being so passive, especially for something like this, but he finds that he just can't speak. He's incredibly grateful to Grantaire for taking over. 

There's a wild look in Grantaire's eyes as they walk back to Enjolras' place, scared and desperate and _angry_ , but it softens when they turn to each other. 

"We'll get through this," Grantaire says, and Enjolras has never heard him sound more certain about anything in his life. His eyes say that he _believes it_ , and Enjolras doesn't know why it's the last push it takes for him to start tearing up. Grantaire makes a broken sound at the back of his throat and pulls Enjolras into his arms. "We _will_ , okay?"

He uses the word _we_ like it's a foregone conclusion that he'll be there. Enjolras presses his face into Grantaire's neck and takes a deep breath, trying to pull himself together.

"I—I'm scared, Grantaire." He hates how small his voice is. 

"Me too," Grantaire replies. "I'm fucking terrified, but we can do this. I mean—if you want me around—"

" _Grantaire_." Enjolras clings to him, and that's all the answer Grantaire needs.

«·»

Enjolras hates his body. He hates the way that he's steadily getting weaker, he hates the fact that their ABC meetings are now shorter by necessity. He knows that Grantaire disapproves, but he never says so. He simply stays by Enjolras' side like a particularly protective shadow, keeping a close eye on him.

He's started the chemo and he knows that he shouldn't be exerting himself, but he's been gripped by the sudden need to make a change while he still can and with that thought at the back of his mind, it's difficult to rest. 

The rest of his friends know about the cancer, and he can tell that they all agree with Grantaire, that Enjolras shouldn't be pushing himself like this, but their meetings have become even more regular now, even if most of it is just so they can all spend time with each other. 

He's in the middle of a speech during a meeting, about a corrupt government official that needs to be publicly outed, when he's hit with a wave of dizziness. He stops mid-sentence and Grantaire is immediately on his feet, helping him into a chair. 

"Enjolras." It's Combeferre who speaks up, because Grantaire has his lips tightly pressed together. "You're exhausting yourself. Please rest." 

"I can't," Enjolras insists. "The Cause can't rest just because I'm sick—"

"Damn it, Enjolras," Courfeyrac interrupts, shaking his head and looking utterly devastated. "Yes it can. We need our leader and you—you need to take care of yourself and get better, okay? Please."

Enjolras nods, too tired to argue. Grantaire's squeezes his shoulder gently and says, "I think we should call it a night. Let's go home." 

They walk slowly, and Enjolras accepts Grantaire's support. The rest of their friends watch with concern as they go down to the stairs and out onto the street. Enjolras hates this so much. He's meant to be helping people, not stalling all progress just because he's sick. He's angry, so bitterly angry, and it must show on his face because Grantaire stops in front of the door and kisses Enjolras gently.

"We just need to get through this and you'll get your energy back after, okay?" Grantaire's hand is warm on Enjolras' cheek and he rests their foreheads together. "You're doing great and I'm so proud of you."

"I wouldn't be doing half as well without you," Enjolras tells him quietly, as Grantaire unlocks the door. 

Grantaire had moved in with Enjolras just before the chemo had started. Enjolras had made a passing comment about how Grantaire spent more time at his apartment anyway, and Grantaire had moved in the very next day, continuing to pay his own lease until it was over. Enjolras is incredibly grateful for it, not just because Grantaire is there to help him when he feels too weak to do things on his own, but because Grantaire has been the greatest source of comfort to him since he'd first received the diagnosis. 

Grantaire has been incredibly strong and calm throughout all of this, and it's not what Enjolras had expected at all. He's always there when Enjolras needs him, without a question, without a second thought, full of smiles and encouragement and more positivity than Enjolras has ever seen from him before. 

Once they're inside, Enjolras sits on the couch and sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. He freezes as his hand comes back with a clump of hair in it, his gaze snapping to Grantaire. 

Opening his mouth and then shutting it again, Grantaire gives him a small, brittle smile. "Well. We—we knew it was going to happen eventually. It's okay. It's going to grow back after. Everything's going to be fine."

Enjolras tries to believe him, but he can't. Everything _isn't_ fine right now. Enjolras can see the weight he's lost every time he looks into the mirror, he can tell that the food portions he's been managing to eat have gotten smaller and smaller, to the point where Grantaire has completely changed the kind of food he's cooking to make sure that Enjolras still gets all the nutrients he needs. He can feel himself getting bonier, giving in to whatever's going on inside his body and his hair is the final thing. He can wear layers to hide the weight loss, he can ignore the fact that he needs to sit down a lot more often these days, but he can't ignore the fact that his hair is falling out.

"It's just hair," he whispers, to himself, to Grantaire, perhaps to both of them. "It's no big deal."

"Right," Grantaire replies, taking Enjolras' hand.

Looking up, Enjolras fixes Grantaire with a determined look. "I want you to shave my head." 

Grantaire falters. "What?"

"It's going to fall out anyway. I don't want to wait for that to happen, Grantaire, I don't want to watch myself fall apart. Just. Shave it all off. It's just hair. It'll grow back again later."

"It's just hair," Grantaire repeats, like he's trying to convince himself this time. He nods tightly, and presses a kiss to Enjolras' head, to his hair. "We'll go to the bathroom." 

Enjolras sits in the tub, with a towel over his shoulders. He tries watching Grantaire, but there's a sad, vulnerable look in his eyes that hasn't been there for the past few months, and Enjolras can't bring himself to keep looking. He drops his gaze to his hands, clasped in his lap, instead. He watches as his blond, curling locks fall around him, until his head feels light, and a little cold. 

"There," Grantaire says, so softly that Enjolras barely hears him. He reaches down, touching a lock of hair, and then gets up, standing in front of the mirror. 

Enjolras watches in silence as Grantaire shaves his own head, not caring that his dark hair falls all over his shirt and onto the tiles. He puts the electric razor down and looks over his shoulder at Enjolras. "We match. Just wait until Bossuet sees, he'll be insisting that he's started a trend." 

With a small, crooked smile, Enjolras gets to his feet and wraps his arms around Grantaire. In return, Grantaire's arms wrap tightly around his and Enjolras can feel his shoulders shaking as he cries for the first time since Enjolras first sat him down, so long ago. Enjolras presses himself closer, comforting him for a change. It's a welcome reversal.

«·»

"Hey, Bahorel."

Grantaire's voice wakes Enjolras and he opens his eyes to the dark bedroom. The light in the lounge is on, and that's where he can hear Grantaire's voice. He must be on the phone. Enjolras tries to get up, but he's much too tired. He's had a bad day, full of nausea and throwing up everything he's tried to eat. It's been exhausting for both of them and Enjolras is too drained to move, but too restless to get back to sleep. He simply lies there, and listens to Grantaire's voice.

"Yeah, he's uh—he's asleep right now. We didn't have a very good day, he just needs a bit of rest. He'll be fine." 

There's a brief silence and Grantaire laughs, shaky and unhappy. "Me? I'm—I'm fine. I'm good."

Bahorel must say something, because Grantaire sighs heavily, "No. I'm really not, am I? I'm not—fuck, Bahorel, I knew this would be hard, but… it's just so unfair. Why _him_? He's so—he's kind and caring and he's going to _change the world_ and he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve any of this and if someone like _Enjolras_ can have cancer then you know there's no fucking good out in the world at all. There's no justice, there's nothing and I—"

Grantaire breaks off with a sob, and it hurts for Enjolras to listen to him like this, to know that it's his cancer, his fault. 

"I love him so much," Grantaire says, his words coming out in a rush. "I love him, and I'm so scared that this isn't going to work. I hate seeing him in pain, I hate seeing him suffer like this, and I can't even stand the thought of him going through all of this and it not fixing anything. Yeah, I've done the research and I know it _should_ work but…"

He trails off, listening to Bahorel on the other end. Enjolras wipes his cheeks with shaking hands. 

"Being optimistic is so exhausting, man. I—I don't think I'd be able to do this if the alternate option wasn't so terrifying. Enjolras is going to be okay, because he _has to be_. I can't—I'm not going to lose him. I'm not."

Enjolras sucks in a shaky breath, covering his mouth with a hand so Grantaire won't hear. Grantaire continues talking to Bahorel and they change topics; Enjolras suspects that Bahorel is trying to distract him in order to cheer him up, and he's thankful for the fact.

He's still awake when Grantaire hangs up and comes to bed. He's quiet, trying not to disturb Enjolras, getting under the covers. Enjolras rolls onto his side, wrapping his arm around Grantaire.

"Shit," Grantaire says quietly. He rests his hand on the back of Enjolras' head. "I thought you were asleep—"

"I love you too," Enjolras tells him, forestalling the apology that he knows is coming, even though Grantaire has nothing to apologise for. "I'm so incredibly glad I have you."

Grantaire kisses his forehead, and doesn't let him go throughout the night.

«·»

Once Enjolras' course of chemo is over, they start him on radiation therapy to minimise the risk of the cancer returning. It's much shorter than the chemo; it's only a week's worth of treatment and he has to go into the hospital every day. It's just as exhausting, the nausea is even worse, but it's worth it.

Grantaire takes him to the hospital every day. He'd taken a hiatus from his commission work a few weeks ago, so that he's free around the clock, whenever Enjolras needs him. Enjolras isn't quite sure what he did to deserve all of the love and care that Grantaire has for him, but all he can do is appreciate it and return it.

Getting through to the end of the week feels like the most difficult thing Enjolras has ever done in his life and when he gets there, the recovery is an incredibly slow process. The lethargy and nausea linger for weeks and Grantaire doesn't seem to mind taking care of him at all, but Enjolras hates the fact that he's not done with it yet. 

He's too tired to celebrate properly when his tests come back indicating that the cancer is gone, but invites their friends over for the afternoon anyway. They all crowd into the lounge room, with Enjolras sitting on the couch and Grantaire by his side, just as he has been through all of this. 

The relief is clear on all of their faces. Courfeyrac and Marius are holding each other and crying. Combeferre is sitting on Enjolras' other side with a hand resting on Courfeyrac's back. Jehan is already writing a poem dedicated to Enjolras in his notebook. Joly and Bossuet are having a hushed discussion about life post-treatment, which Enjolras doesn't listen very closely to. Bahorel and Feuilly are in the kitchen, making tea and coffee for everyone so that Grantaire doesn't have to get up.

By the time everyone leaves, both Enjolras and Grantaire are exhausted. They're still sitting on the couch, hand in hand, and Enjolras rests his head on Grantaire's shoulder with a smile. 

"We can just nap here for a while, right?"

Grantaire snorts and presses his lips to Enjolras' shaven head. "You beat cancer, Enjolras. I'm pretty sure you can do whatever the hell you want."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Enjolras lets out a big yawn and smiles. "A nap seems so unambitious."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll make up for that later," Grantaire tells him, kissing him again before getting up. "I'll be right back."

He returns to the couch with a large blanket for both of them and Enjolras smiles, settling into Grantaire's side. "I love you. I don't tell you that enough."

"Enjolras," Grantaire laughs, "you tell me at least once a day."

"Still not enough. I love you."

Taking Enjolras' hand again, Grantaire squeezes it. "I love you too."

«·»

They celebrate the anniversary of when they'd started dating, as most couples do, but it's not something they celebrate half as much as the anniversary of when Enjolras had been declared free of cancer. It's been two years now, and all of his check-ups have come back with good news. He'll still need to go for check-ups every six months, but it feels like it's well and truly behind him now.

He's regained his strength and energy, and he's picked up where he'd left off during treatment, holding regular ABC meetings once again, organising protests and writing to local politicians, and it's good to be back. Combeferre and Joly both keep a close eye on him, and Enjolras can't really fault them for it. They worry whenever he's sick, whenever he's tired, and Enjolras has had to make several changes, making sure that he's getting the proper amount of rest, eating the right kind of food. 

Cancer has left a big mark on his life, making sure that he won't forget it, as though it were even possible. His hair has grown back, but it looks different now. It's not as dark a blond, and it doesn't curl as much. He grows it long, so he can tie it back into a braid. 

Grantaire hasn't left Enjolras' side once. He'd continued living with Enjolras even after the treatment was over and he'd regained enough strength to take care of himself. He stopped shaving his head when Enjolras started growing his hair out, and he's back to the head of dark curls that Enjolras loves. He braids Enjolras' hair for him, accompanies him to every single check-up and he's always there, just within arm's reach, whenever Enjolras needs him. Enjolras doesn't deserve him, and when he'd once told Grantaire as much, Grantaire hadn't been able to stop laughing for a good ten minutes.

They go out to dinner to celebrate two years of being cancer-free, and Grantaire makes a reservation at their favourite restaurant. It's classy without being over the top, it's romantic, and their favourite table is far enough to the back that when Grantaire gets down on one knee, it goes unnoticed by most. 

"I love you," Grantaire says simply. "And… I mean, I guess we were thrown straight into the deep end when we started dating and that was hard, but I'm glad that I was allowed—that I could be there with you for that. I just. I want to spend the rest of my life making sure that from here on out, you have the most amazing life ever. I mean. If you'll let me. Marry me?"

"Yes," Enjolras breathes. He abandons his chair to kneel in front of Grantaire and okay, _now_ people looking. He doesn't pay them any mind, wrapping his arms around Grantaire and kissing him hard. "Of course I will. I love you."

Grantaire slides the ring onto Enjolras' finger and they pull each other close again for a kiss, smiling against each other's lips as everyone else in the restaurant cheers. There are plenty of things he never would have expected, just over two years ago, and Grantaire being such a big part of his life is certainly one of them. He wouldn't change it for the world.


End file.
